


Entrenchment: Darcy and Simon Lewis Have Clearly Made Some Bad Decisions (But It's All For the Best, Really)

by orphan_account



Series: Lewis Family Traditions [1]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Complete, Romance, Tragedy, True Love, as canon as possible i suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy is totally done with aliens and gods and jack-booted thugs and men in black. She signs a confidentiality agreement, graduates, and moves the fuck back home. Well, she signs a confidentiality agreement, graduates, moves the fuck back home, and maybe falls disgustingly in love with Phil Coulson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Introduction: True Love is Pretty Great, or The Desert Makes People Do Weird Things

     Darcy is totally done with aliens and gods and jack-booted thugs and men in black. She signs a confidentiality agreement, graduates, and moves the fuck back home. Well, she signs a confidentiality agreement, graduates, moves the fuck back home, and maybe falls disgustingly in love with Phil Coulson, iPod thief and archetypal Secret Agent Man. Darcy really hates the Land of Enchantment. Frankly, she’s pretty sure the only reason she’s allowed out of New Mexico with her memories intact is that she and Philip have awesome sex. Well, that and Jane is surprisingly terrifying when she wants to be. Pint sized fury is just more concentrated, Darcy figures. 

     It’s not as if she had taken the internship in East Jesus Nowhere to get some--quite the opposite. Darcy had heard that the desert was a great place to lie on the roof and cry to Mumford and Sons on full volume, harmonizing with a pint of Benjamin and Gerald’s finest. But then Oz spits Dorothy back out and the World’s Tiniest Astrophysicist gets all her research stolen by a shady government agency, and all bets are off and Darcy finds herself learning how Agent K takes his coffee. 

     Coulson doesn’t have much to do when he’s on base, besides quietly terrify the natives and calmly murder people over the phone, and neither does Darcy, as she knows approximately nothing about space beyond what Star Trek and Joss Whedon have taught her (which is not much, Erik informs her after she suggests diverting power to the aft nes-cells.) And so Darcy and Coulson spend quite a bit of time together, eating their way through all the pie in town and playing poker for whatever is at hand. Darcy leaves the state with no bobby pins and about sixteen different ways to cheat at cards. 

     Two weeks and three days before Darcy receives her diploma via courier and buys her ticket to New York, she goes on a midnight drive with Phil, ending up about twenty miles from the border. They lie on the roof of the car, Phil telling the myths behind the constellations and Darcy embellishing upon them with a child’s delight. They watch the moon traverse the sky, crossing the Milky Way and making friends with the distant mountains. Darcy gives Phil her class ring (which she demanded her mother buy her for precisely this possible future) and Phil gives Darcy his dog tags. Dozing with her head cradled against Phil’s chest, Darcy pictures their wedding, grinning lazily at the thought of Clint Barton in a best man’s tux. In the rays of the dawning sun over bleak and beautiful terrain, Phil imagines he can taste his own mortality. 

     Two weeks before Darcy receives proof of her scholarly status, Phil drives into Santa Fe and makes an impulsive purchase, in cold cash. Three days before Darcy uses SHIELD funds to book a first-class seat to New York City, Phil drives them both back out to their spot in the desert, and asks Darcy for her hand. An hour after Darcy gets reprimanded for using SHIELD funds for an extravagance and twelve before she leaves for the Big Apple, Phil marries her in the Puente Antiguo town hall, with Barton, Jane, Erik, and a beautiful redhead as witness. 

     And the next morning Phil is on base with Selvig and Darcy is in Brooklyn, waking up in her childhood bedroom after decidedly not telling her (Jewish) mother about eloping. 


	2. Sibling Rivalry, or Something Completely Unexpected That Happens to Be Dressed Like a 15th Century Spanish Cardinal

     Darcy sleeps for almost three days before calling her little brother, who has apparently moved out. He sounds delighted to hear from her, and tells her to meet him in twenty minutes in Alphabet City. Darcy laughs and shows up fifteen minutes late holding Starbucks and the world’s largest bagel n schmear. He’s living in a fairly nice apartment with another (totally cut) guy, Jordan, who seems decent enough, if a little bit soldierly for Darcy’s liking. 

     “Simon Lewis, how dare you move out and not tell your darling, beloved older sister!” Darcy clucks her tongue in admonishment. “I would have thrown you a party! I’m ever so proud of you, finally throwing off the shackles of our dearest tyrant mother.”

     Simon, to Darcy’s surprise, frowns instead of matching his sister in her enthusiasm. Darcy stares at him, and then Jordan, and then remembers the exorcism book she tripped over this morning. “She didn’t flip out about you having a hot man friend, did she? Cause I thought I covered that base for you when she caught me on the couch with that blonde journalism student in senior year?”

     Jordan is blushing adorably, and Darcy idly wonders if she could get Thor to blush like that. Phil probably could. 

     “When I invited you over I didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition, don’t I even get a hug--”

     Simon’s sister from another mister takes this opportunity to burst in from an adjacent room. “NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!”

     Darcy squeals and pulls Clary in for a hug. “Damn, girl, you are looking fine!” She looks Clary straight in the face with her best stern look. “Did he knock you up or something? Because if he did I’ll have to give him the talk again and you know how that went last time.”

     “I would sincerely hope not. I’d hate to have to murder him on such a lovely day.” A totally gorgeous, heavily tattooed blonde dude follows Clary into the kitchen. 

     “You’d have to fight Jocelyn and Luke to get to him first, Jace.”

     Jace sighs, and pulls Clary off of Darcy, kissing the redhead on the nose. “And that would just end terribly for all involved parties.”

     “And who are you?”

     Darcy can actually feel her brother roll his eyes. “A pain in the ass.”

     Clary snorts. “This is Jace.”

     Jace throws a tight smile at Darcy in greeting, then mutters in Clary’s ear. Clary sighs. “Well we’ve got a thing, so see you later? You and Simon could come over to mine for dinner.”

     “Sounds grrr-eat,” Darcy responds dryly as Jace ushers Clary out of the apartment. She turns back to Simon, who had been mumbling something to Jordan. “They do that a lot?”

     “The secrety couple thing? Always. At least, when they’re not doing the doomed love thing.”

     “Yikes.”

     Simon heaves a sigh. “Yeah.”

     Jordan stands abruptly. “I’ve got to go meet Maia. Nice to meet you, Darcy.” He scuttles quickly out, leaving Simon to Darcy’s mercy. 

     “So, little bro, how is it that you left home? Cause last I heard from you, everything was peachy keen. Except for the unrequited love for your BFF, but I see that’s worked itself out.”

     Simon grimaces. “It’s a long story.”

     “So’s Harry Potter, but you don’t see people shying away from that.”

     “I don’t really want to talk about it?” Simon shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “What about your internship?”

     Darcy narrows her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

     Simon makes a frustrated sound, rather like a sea lion. “Fine then.”

     “Fine.”

     They stare at each other, at an impasse, just like when they were little and Simon would refuse to admit to stealing Darcy’s books. They’re saved from their staring match when the door to the apartment bursts open, making Darcy’s heart stop momentarily. A young woman, lithe and wiry, stands in the doorway, looking annoyed. 

     “Jace said you had a pretty mundane girl in your apartment. I see he was right.”

     “Pretty mundane?” Darcy scowls. “I am a delight.”

     “Jace is just messing with you, Izzy.” Simon looks both put upon and alarmed. “This is my sister, Darcy.”

     “Mundane. Who even talks like that anymore? Well, except...” Darcy trails off, catching herself.”

     “I’m Isabelle Lightwood. Simon’s girlfriend.” Isabelle comes forward, offering her hand to shake, still visibly on guard. 

     Darcy takes it. “Darcy Co--” she freezes momentarily before recovering, “Lewis.” Isabelle eyes her strangely, but doesn’t press further.

     “I can see what you meant, Simon, about Jace being a pain in the ass.”

     Isabelle laughs sharply. “You have no idea.” She lets go of Darcy’s hand, and greets Simon with a kiss. “Sorry I’m late, Alec was having a crisis.”

     “No worries.”

     “So how did you two meet?” Darcy is entirely impressed with her brother’s girlfriend. 

     “Clary,” Simon says. 

     “Jace is my brother. Mostly. He’s adopted.”

     Darcy raises her eyebrows. “Well then. I gotta admit, as a woman I say you’re too good for Simon, but as his sister? I’ll kick your ass if you hurt him.”

     Simon snorts. “Good luck with that. Izzy is more than a match for Lil’ Sparky.”

     Darcy rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t do it myself,” she sniffs importantly. “I abhor violence. I know plenty of people who’d be happy to do it for me.”

     Simon laughs outright. “Ah, fell into the gang scene out there in the desert?”

     “Don’t be such an idiot. It was drug lords.”

     “I’m glad your scholarship is being put to good use.” Simon turns to Isabelle. “Do you have stuff to do or you wanna come out with Darce and me?”

     Isabelle glares at Simon. “We were going to do mundane things today. You insisted.”

     Simon smacks a hand to his forehead. “I am totally the worst boyfriend ever.”

     Isabelle doesn’t protest. 

     “Naw, it’s fine. I can stay here or go back to mom’s or like rob a bank I’m good.” Darcy thinks Isabelle would get along smashingly with Sif. 

     Simon looks torn and slightly panicked. Both Darcy and Isabelle think it’s a good look for him. Very natural. 

     Isabelle finally takes pity on Simon. “No, you must come along. Simon is simply unintelligible at points-- I’d be glad to have a translator.”

     “Fab. Also, your lipgloss is totally poppin’.” She turns her attention to her brother. “What’s first on your agenda, Simony?”

     “I thought we could feed the ducks in Central Park.”


	3. Manhattan Coffee Date, or Surprisingly Darcy Actually Learned Something In College

     They take lunch in a small cafe in Manhattan, in the shadow of the newly-constructed Stark Tower. Darcy sighs into her coffee, wishing she were back in Puente Antiguo, sunbathing on the roof in between taking care of Jane. Darcy wishes she and Phil could have had more time together before they left.

     “You okay there, Darts?” Simon’s concern breaks Darcy out of her reverie. 

     “Yeah, no, I’m good. It’s just been a long week.”

     “Yeah, I bet. You’re a proper college graduate now, hey?” Simon grins. 

     “For what it’s worth.”

     “What did you study?” 

     “Political Science. Also astrophysics, but that was more an accident than anything. What about you? Where are you looking at?”

     Isabelle blinks a few times. “University isn’t really for me.”

     “Fair enough.” Darcy can tell she’s avoiding the question, but it’s too nice a day to dwell unnecessarily. She’s about to recommence her interrogation of Simon re: moving out, but something catches her eye. “Simon,” she whispers fiercely, kicking her brother in the shin. 

     He yelps. “What?”

     Darcy jerks her head to her two o clock, where a totally hot blonde dude is sitting, looking ex-fucking-actly like Captain America. Simon turns slightly, then snaps his head back around. “Arghk,” he chokes, eyes nearly bugging out of his head. “That guy looks exactly like Captain America.”

     Darcy surreptitiously pulls her phone from her purse and snaps a photo. She sends it to Phil, along with a text reading “IS THERE SOMETHING YOU NEGLECTED TO TELL ME ABOUT MY DISSERTATION TOPIC?????!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!?!”

     Darcy’s phone rings in reply just as Simon begins to fill Isabelle in. 

     “Darcy.” Phil’s voice is calm and measured as usual, but Darcy can hear the excitement buried in his tone. 

     “So?”

     “I may have known a little more about the Captain than I previously let on.”

     “And?”

     “You can’t go say hi.”

     “So it is him! Oh my god, I’m totally gonna go say hi.”

     “Darcy, you can’t just go hit on a national icon. Especially one that’s supposed to be dead.” 

     “I’ll be nice.”

     “I expect so.” 

     Darcy can taste the resignation in her husband’s voice “Awesome, love you, bye.” She ends the call and shoves her phone in her pocket.

     Simon is explaining his nazi-centric conspiracy theories to Isabelle. 

     “I’m gonna go say hi.” Darcy gets up and walks over, as casual as possible. She takes the other chair at the small table, casting shadow onto the Captain’s sketchbook. He glances up, looking slightly confused. 

     “May I help you, ma’am?”

     “Hi. I’m Darcy Coulson. You looked like you might need some company.” She sticks her hand out for him to shake. 

     He takes it, his massive hand dwarfing hers. “Steve Rogers. Pleased to meet you.” He sounds uncertain, but Darcy isn’t daunted.

     “What’re you drawing?”

     Steve hesitates. “Uh, just the tower up there. It’s pretty impressive.”

     Darcy shrugs. “I suppose. It’s very Stark.”

     Steve frowns. “I would say it’s more ostentatious than anything, but...”

     “No, yeah, you’re totally right. I meant Stark as in the lunatic billionaire superhero that designed it.” Darcy snorts. “Though thanks for that, I never caught the joke there. Stark being anything but. Love a good contextual pun.” She glances down at the sketch. “Wow, you’re really good.”

     The Captain blushes. “Thank you. I just have a lot of practice.”

     “Hey, I practice, but I spent seventeen years being bored to tears in various classrooms, doodling for nearly every minute, and I’m still on stick figures and squiggly line patterns.”

     “That’s true, she’s terrible. She once gave our mom a portait on for her birthday, and mom thought it was the neighbour’s dog.” Simon punches Darcy lightly in the shoulder, grinning. “We should get going if you want to change before going to Clary’s for dinner.”

     Darcy nods. “Well, Mr. Rogers, it was a genuine pleasure. Until next time.” She stands, bobs a little curtsey and follows her brother and his terrifying girlfriend away. “My suitcase is at Mom’s?”

     Simon heaves a sigh. “Yikes. Well, how about Iz and I head off back my way, and I’ll meet you at Clary’s?”

     Darcy shrugs. “She still living in the same place?”

     “Nah, they’re at Luke’s now.”

     “Kay,” Darcy says, slinging her purse across her body. “Catch you on the flipside, bitches.”


	4. Family Dinner, or That Didn’t Go Nearly As Badly As Clary or Simon Was Expecting (Though Simon Was Expecting Zombies)

     Darcy meets Simon and Isabelle at Luke’s just as twilight begins to set in. She stands awkwardly on the porch with her duffle bag for a few moments, waiting for her brother to arrive, but Clary catches sight of her through the window and ushers her in.

“Did you guys have a good day?” Clary pulls Darcy through to the kitchen, where Luke and Jocelyn are cooking. 

“Yeah, pretty much. It’s a little hard to tell with Isabelle, though. She’s wound pretty tight.” Darcy reaches out and brushes some flour off of Clary’s nose.

Clary blushes. “I tried to bake a cake. It was messy.”

Darcy laughs, understanding fully Clary’s understatement.

“But yeah,” Clary says, picking up a stack of plates and handing them over, “she is wound pretty tight. Not for nothing, though.”

Darcy follows Clary out to the dining table, and begins setting places. “So is your maaaaaan coming to dinner?”

Clary grins. “Yeah, he’s just picking up Alec and Magnus. I decided it was going to be a nice family dinner, since who knows how long you’re staying for.”

     “I certainly don’t.” Darcy straightens the last napkin and steps back, admiring her handiwork. “What kind of name is Magnus?”

“An odd one. He’s Alec’s boyfriend, and Alec is Isabelle’s brother. He’s the tall, dark, and handsome type. You’ll like him.” Clary pauses, frowning. “Actually, now that I think about it, you and Magnus will probably get on like a house on fire. That’s a terrifying thought.”

“Indeed.” Jocelyn floats in from the kitchen, holding a massive bowl of salad. “How’ve you been, dear?”

“Pretty good. Graduated college.” Got married.

“Very impressive. Your mother must be proud.” Jocelyn smiles warmly at Darcy.

“I guess. She’s acting pretty weird. Because of whatever’s going on between her and Simon, I guess.” Darcy sighs heavily, taking a water pitcher from Clary and setting it on the table. 

“Hmm. I do keep meaning to speak with her about that.” 

“And then you keep telling yourself that you shouldn’t meddle in other people’s personal problems.” Luke trots in, carrying a heavy pot of pasta. 

Clary snorts. “Like that’s ever stopped anyone in this family.”

“Clary, darling, you couldn’t be more right!” A silvery voice rings out from the living room, followed by a rather alarmingly-dressed young man. “Meddling in other people’s problems is practically your birthright.”

Clary rolls her eyes. “Darcy, this is Magnus. Magnus, this is Simon’s sister, Darcy.”

Magnus shakes Darcy’s hand enthusiastically, staring at her much like a scientist does a bug. “Good to meet the family of my favorite mundane.” He lets go of Darcy, and turns back to the doorway. “Alec, do you have the wine?”

“Yep.” Darcy notices for the first time a handsome guy leaning against the door. He steps forward, handing a dusty red bottle to Jocelyn. “We brought wine. From Magnus’ collection. It’s probably not poisoned.”

“I resent the implications of that statement.” Magnus sidles up to Alec, wrapping a wiry arm about his waist. 

“I’m sure you do.” Jace saunters in, grabbing hold of Clary and whispering in her ear. 

“Ugh. Lovebirds.” Magnus rolls his eyes, seemingly well aware of the irony of his statement.

Darcy is feeling rather overwhelmed, and is very glad when Simon practically prances in, trailing a bored-looking Isabelle. “Hey, how did you get here first?”

“I didn’t stop to canoodle.” Darcy stared pointedly at Simon’s especially-messy hair. 

They all sit down to dinner, Darcy flanked by Magnus and Clary. The food is delicious, spaghetti with goat cheese marinara  and garlic bread and salad, but Darcy notices that Simon only picks at his food. She’s just finishing her second helping of garlic bread when her phone rings, playing “Back In Time” by Pitbull loudly from her pocket.

     “Sorry, I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” Darcy stands and dashes out to the porch, answering the call hurriedly. “Hey babe.”

“Hey Darce.” Phil sounds exhausted.

“Is everything okay?” Darcy sits on the bench swing, kicking her feet back and forth. 

Phil sighs heavily. “As much as it ever is. I just wanted to call and see how you were doing.”

“I’m alright. Simon decided to allow Clary to introduce me to everyone they know, all at once, which is highly overwhelming, and also apparently all of them have weird-ass gang tattoos, but they seem nice, I guess. And they’re all pretty hot.”

“Well that’s a bonus. I’d advise, though, that you avoid joining any gangs.”

“Duh.” Darcy sighs. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Dar--” Phil cuts off, interrupted by voices in the background. He speaks quickly to a woman, in the overly calm professional vocie that Darcy loves. “Sorry. Hill needs me, apparently Selvig and Barton have gotten in a bit of a disagreement.”

Darcy snorts, fully aware of Phil’s understatement. “Alright. I love you.”

“I love you too. Be safe.”

Darcy rejoins the dinner table, positively glowing with joy. Everyone quiets down as soon as she walks in, which makes Darcy highly suspicious, but she really can’t be that worried about it. “Everything copacetic?”

“Yeah. Who was that? I’ve never seen you answer the phone that fast.” Clary leans forward, smiling. 

Darcy slips her left hand under the table, suddenly conscious of the presence of her wedding ring. “Just a friend.”

“Oh?” Simon leans in, mimicking Clary.

Darcy sniffs royally. “Yes. And it’s none of your business, Mr. I-Moved-Out-And-Didn’t-Tell-My-Favorite-Sister.”

“You’re my only sister.”

“That’s hardly the point, knucklehead.”

Simon sticks his tongue out, wrinkling his nose, but Darcy reaches over and flicks it. “Ow!”

“Serves you right, you dummy. Your table manners haven’t improved, like, at all since you were three.”

“False!” Simon scowls indignantly. “I no longer smear mushed peas into my hair.”

Clary snorts. “Now that’s false. Remember that time at Taki’s, with Maia?”

Isabelle laughs, and Simon scowls even deeper. “Now  I’m being ganged up on.”


	5. Grocery Quest, or Darcy is a Little Bit of a Mother Hen

     Darcy spends the next week or so holed up at Simon’s, ordering takeaway and skyping with Jane. Clary and her friends are constantly pouring in and out of the apartment, being as loud as humanly possible, and creating tornado-worthy messes. Darcy takes to cleaning the place obsessively, to the point where Jordan starts flinching guiltily whenever he leaves something on the coffee table in Darcy’s presence. Eventually, tired of eating box after box of chinese food, and craving an apple, Darcy drags Clary out grocery shopping, as both Simon and Jordan fled when she suggested going to the store. Jace trys to tag along, but Clary gives him a rather pointed look that Darcy can’t really decipher, and he slinks back into the living room.

“Doesn’t he have his own house?”

Clary shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s pretty gloomy. He prefers to crash here, or at Magnus’. Though I think Magnus has started to throw him out in increasingly creative ways, lately.”

“You have the weirdest friends. I mean, last time I saw you, you were still a total loner art freak.” Darcy throws several bunches of bananas into the cart, eyeing the tomatoes thoughtfully.

Clary laughs. “I’m still a total loner art freak. I just sort of, I don’t know, turned into a weirdo magnet?”

“Or more of one than usual. You’ve had Simon forver, and he’s the king of weirdos.” Darcy looks over her glasses at Clary, who is carrying approximately a year’s worth of fruit. “Got enough mangoes, there, Fray?”

“Jace likes them. Especially when I cut them into cities for him. He’s such a child, sometimes.” 

Darcy shakes her head, leading the way out of the produce section. “Man, all I wanted was like, an apple. And now look, we’ve got an entire goddamn fruit salad. Good thing we’ve got an entire cotillion’s worth of strapping young men coming in and out of the kitchen on a daily basis.”

“I worry about your metaphors sometimes.”

“I worry about your life sometimes.”

“Fair enough.”

 

* * *

     

     They emerge from the Stop’n’Shop carrying entirely too much food, and hail a cab back to the apartment. Darcy patiently puts away all the food as Jace and Jordan hover quietly around the island. She throws them a couple mangoes, grabbing a honeycrisp apple and a box of cinnamon-sugar pop tarts for herself. Jace looks up at her, eyes wide, and Darcy sighs, handing him a paring knife. “Cut them into cities yourself, you pathetic creature.”

Jace looks affronted. “I am not pathetic. I am virtuous and manly.”

“Keep telling yourself that, babes.” Darcy retreats to Simon’s room, which she has appropriated as her own, to Simon’s annoyance. She pulls over her laptop, opening Skype. Phil’s icon is, as usual, grey, but Jane’s is green, so she calls her, biting into her giant, delicious apple. 

     “Darce! Hi!” Jane’s hair is a mess, and she’s wearing the same tshirt as the last time Darcy spoke to her.

“How long has it been since you showered?” Darcy occationally regrets leaving Jane to her own devices.

“Um,” Jane frowns, taking a sip of coffee that is most likely stale and cold, “what day is it?”

Darcy sighs, and Jane giggles. 

“Kidding. It was yesterday. I even did laundry, too. My new interns are very persistent about my personal hygeiene.”

“Excellent. I worry about you.”

“I know. How’s life in the Big Apple?”

“Alright. It’s gross and humid, but at least it’s not New Mexico. How’s your suff? Did you get the thingy working?”

Jane rolls her eyes. “It’s not a thingy it’s a,” she pauses, then sighs. “No, yeah, it’s a thingy. And no, I still can’t get it calibrated. I wish Eric were here, I need someone else who’s, well, out of grad school.”

“I heard he’s having fun with his new work.”

“Oh, loads. I still haven’t seen him, he’s still holed up in that base.” Jane lights up. “I have seen Coulson, though, he’s looking good.”

Darcy leans forward into her laptop. “Really? No missing limbs? No new wrinkles? I’ve only been able to catch him on the phone, I’m going crazy. Does he seem stressed? He sounds stressed. Do you think he’s eating okay? I think he lives entirely on coffee and donuts, sometimes. I--”

Jane holds up one of her small, callused hands. “Darce, he’s fine. He misses you, but he’s fine. Still as inscrutiable as usual. Very cool and collected.”

Darcy sighs heavily. “I miss him.”

“I know, Darce.”

“Maybe I should’ve stayed down there with you. It’s not like I’m doing anything, I’m actually in a state of perpetual boredom.”

“You wouldn’t be any better down here. My new interns are all terrifingly competent. Sometimes even I don’t have anything to do.”

“Now that’s a bizarre thought. You hit anyone with the van lately?”

“Only the postman, and that was only cause I forgot to put the parking break on.” Jane grins, eyes mischeivious.

“Hey, good job.”

“I know. Alright, I need to go supervise, they’re moving the array up to the roof and I think I just heard a little crash.”

“Kay. Make one of them go get you fresh coffee.”

“Will do. Bye.” Jane hangs up, and Darcy is left staring at a black screen.


	6. Big News, or Clary Has Much Better Observational Skills Than Darcy Does

     One morning in late March, when Darcy wakes up, she promply books it to the bathroom and pukes her guts out. She sits on the cold bathroom floor for a few minutes, leaning her head against the wall, cataloging exactly what she ate last night. Nothing that she’s allergic to, and probably nothing poisonous. “Trust me to get the flu when it isn’t even flu season,” she mutters bitterly into the porcelain.

Darcy brushes her teeth vigorously, and rinses with mouthwash three times to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. She stands in the shower for twice as long as usual, feeling dizzy and nauseous, aprreciating greatly the feeling of cool water against her skin. After getting dressed in a pair of exercise shorts and one of her brother’s dorky Con shirts, Darcy shlumps out into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of freezing cold water and putting in some bread for toast. 

“You okay, Darcy?” Jordan is perched on the kitchen island, eating scrambled eggs and thick-sliced bacon out of the pan. 

“Think I’ve got a bug, or something.” Darcy pops up her toast prematurely, and throws it onto a paper towel. “I’m just gonna crash on the couch and watch cartoons.”

“Okay. If you need anything, just holler.”

Darcy nods, crossing into the living room. “Have you seen Simon?”

“He went out with Isabelle last night, I think.”

“Thanks.” Darcy clambers onto the couch, pulling the crocheted afghan around her legs and grabbing the remote.

She wakes up again around noon, having fallen asleep to Fairly Odd Parents, the sounds of concerned whispering  drifting in from the kitchen. She stands, brushing toast crumbs from her chest onto the floor, and trots over, suddenly ravenous. “Hey.”

Isabelle, Jace, and Clary, huddled around the island, look up in surprise. 

“Oh, hey, I didn’t know you were out here. Did we wake you? Simon said Jordan said you weren’t feeling well” 

“Yeah, I was kinda gross this morning. And I think I was already a little awake, so no worries.” Darcy pulls open the fridge, assesing its contents. 

“Kay. You want a muffin?”

Darcy pulls out a carton of orange juice. “Who made muffins?”

“Jordan. I think they’re for you, but, well...”

“But I ate most of them.” Jace shrugs, hardly apologetic.

“You are a feind.” Isabelle punches him in the shoulder, smiling fondly.

Pouring juice into her glass from earlier, Darcy eyes the pile of crumbs and wrappers next to the plate of muffins. “You really are. I think the rest of those are mine.”

Over the next few days, Darcy goes through much the same pattern, until Clary pulls her aside one evening, looking concerned. They’re in the park, by a little duck pond, Simon and Isabelle arguing about something or another. Clary sits down on one of the  weathered wooden benches, patting the spot next to her. 

“How’re you feeling today?”

Darcy shruggs. “Okay. Same as all week. Constantly switching between starving or nauseous.”

“I’ve noticed. Now, I don’t mean to sound like your mother, but, well.” Clary blushes. “Um, are you, well, pregnant?” She whispers the last word furtively, glancing about as if the ducks were listening in.

Darcy freezes, making a strangled noise. After a moment of frantic processing, she pulls out her phone, checking her period tracking app. She quietly hands over the phone to Clary, who swallows loudly. “Five and a half weeks late?”

“Apparently.” Darcy’s voice is hoarse, her mind racing.

“You, um, want to go to the drugstore?”

Darcy takes her phone back, tucking it in her pocket. “Yeah.”

Clary stands, and calls over to Simon. “Hey, we’re gonna go grab a few things from the store, and then head back. You need anything?”

“Nope,” Simon yells back, scaring off the duck that had been sidling up to his feet.

Darcy stands, grabbing Clary’s outstretched hand, and follows her down the gravel path.

 

* * *

     

The test is positive, and Darcy has to sit quietly on the edge of the bathtub for a few minutes before she can do anything but focus on not hyperventilating. She’s happy, estatic even, how could she not be, but she’s also terrified. She knows that S. H. I. E. L. D. isn’t really a settle-down sort of life, and she and Phil never even talked about kids, anyways. It’s not like they’d had tons of time to plan their future. If they have a future. Darcy’s not stupid, she knows that Phil’s job doesn’t have a particularly high life expectancy. 

So Darcy sits there, panicking and crying both of joy and terror, until Clary kicks the door open, sits down next to her, and pulls her into a hug. 

     “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Clary holds on tight to Darcy’s trembling frame, making soothing noises into her hair. It’s a while before Darcy speaks up, mumbling something about getting Clary’s shirt all gross.

Clary shakes her head. “I’ve had much worse, trust me.”

Darcy smiles, wiping her eyes. “Thanks.”

“No problem. You want to talk about it?”

Darcy sniffles. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She blows her nose loudly on the tissue Clary hands her.

“Do you know who the dad is?” 

Darcy smiles wearily. “Yeah” 

“You gonna tell Simon?”

“Absolutely not.” Darcy frowns. “I don’t really want to deal with that, not yet.”

     “Okay.” Clary looks at her watch, and starts. “Oh, crap, I’m late, I’m so sorry, Darce, but I gotta go. Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, totally. Don’t worry about it.” Darcy watches, vaguely amused as Clary bolts out, skidding slightly on the slippery tile. 

Darcy stands tiredly, and grabs her phone off of the sink. She clambers out Simon’s bedroom window, onto the fire escape, and dials Jane. 

“Darcy!”

“Hey Jane.” Darcy’s voice is slightly wobbly.

     “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Did something happen? Was it Phil? Do I have to kick his ass? Do I have to kick someone elses ass? What’s up?”

Darcy giggles softly. “No, I’m okay, I’m fine.” She takes a deep breath. “Jane, I’m, um, I’m pregnant.”

Jane shrieks. “OH MY GOD!”

“Ow.”

“HOW FAR ALONG ARE YOU? DOES PHIL KNOW? HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN?” Jane’s voice is raising in pitch and volume, and Darcy has to hold the phone slightly away from her ear.

“Like a month and a half, I just found out, and no, Phil doesn’t know, not yet. I wanna tell him in person.”

“Congratulations!” 

Darcy can hear Jane jumping up and down in excitement.

“I’m going to be an auntie! I’m so excited! Do you have any names? This is the most exciting thing that has happened all month!”

Darcy laughs outright. “Chill, Jane! I found out literally like less than half an hour ago. You were my first call.”

“Oh, Darce, I’m so happy for you, and for Phil. I hope you can see him soon.”

“Me too.” Dary jumps as she hears the door open. “Oh, I think Simon’s home, I should go.”

“Okay! Call me soon!”


	7. True Fucking Love, or Phil Coulson is Completely Smitten

     A few weeks later, Phil calls around three am. Darcy picks up, voice laden with sleep. “Hi.”

“Hey, Darcy.” He sounds exhausted, more so than usual.

“Are you okay? You sound terrible.”

“Something’s come up.” He sighs. “More than that, actually. A lot more.”

“But are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m on my way to New York, actually.”

Darcy sits up straight, her heart pounding. “Really?”

“Really. I have one meeting, but it’s not until tomorrow night at the latest. I’m going to take most of the day off.”

Darcy can feel her eyes begin to tear up. “Okay.”

“I’ll come get you when I get in, is that alright?”

“Yeah.” Darcy sniffles. “I’ll be here.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The line clicks dead, and Darcy rolls over, smiling uncontrollably. She curls around one of her pillows, burying her face into the flannel. 

She gets up a while later, and takes a luxuriously long shower. “Daddy’s coming, baby. I can’t wait to tell him about you,” she whispers, rubbing a hand over her belly, excitement trembling through her every inch. 

Darcy gets dressed, putting on the soft blue dress that she knows Phil likes, and braiding her heavy hair up into a crown. She paces through the kitchen, munching absently on saltines, watching the clock pass five, and then six. Eventually, hearing Simon stir, she returns to her room, where she curls back up in the blankets, playing game after game of Sugar Crush in an attempt to pass the time. 

She must fall asleep, because she awakes to the sound of the apartment buzzer and Simon’s grouchy morning cursing. Darcy attempts to leap out of bed, but she gets tangled in the blankets, and tumbles slightly. By the time she manages to stand, tucking wisps of her hair back into its braid, Simon is opening the door, having already buzzed Phil up.

Darcy barrels across to the door, pushing Simon aside and throwing herself into Phil’s arms. He grabs onto her, hugging her so tightly she thinks she might shatter. They stand there, holding each other as close as physically possible, for what feels like both an eternity and a fleeting moment, before Simon awkwardly clears his throat.

Phil loosens his grasp slightly, and Darcy pulls back just far enough to get a proper look at his face. He looks completely drained, but happy none the less. He leans his forhead against Darcy’s. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Darcy bumps her nose against Phil’s, smiling. “You gonna kiss me, or what?”

Phil doesn’t answer, but instead raises one of his large, callused hands to the back of Darcy’s neck and covers her plump mouth with her own. Darcy whines slightly, rocking forward on the balls of her feet, biting Phil’s bottom lip softly. 

Simon clears his throat again, much more loudly.

Darcy turns away from Phil with a frustrated growl, and glares at her brother. “What? What could you possibly want right now?”

Simon blanches slightly at the look on her face. “Um, you know, just, like, clarification?”

Phil laughs softly, and Darcy can feel it rumble in his chest. “He has a point, Darce. A strange man just showed up on his doorstep to ravish his sister.”

“Ooh, ravish, I like the sound of that.” Darcy rocks forward on her toes again, smiling against Phil’s lips.

“Oh, ew, Darce, I did not need to hear that, it’s way too early for that, please.”

Darcy rolls her eyes and properly extricates herself from Phil’s grasp. “Like I haven’t had to deal with you and Isabelle for like a month already.” She grabs her purse from the key table, where she put it earlier, and seizes Phil’s hand. “This is Phil, and we’re leaving now.”

Simon begins to protest, but Darcy is already pulling the door closed behind her.

“I hate to be a bore, Darce, but I could really go for a nap,” Phil yawns, as he holds open the front door of the building for her. “I’ve been up for days.”

Darcy squeezes Phil’s hand. “Of course. You want me to drive?”

“Please. We’re at the Waldorf.” Phil leads them to the non-descript black sedan parked a few buildings down the block.

“Oh, fancy, I like.” Darcy slides into the driver’s seat, moving it up a few inches and adjusting the mirrors. 

“Great, now next time I get in the car to drive I’m going to have to completely readjust the settings. I just got everything perfect, too.”

“Hey, don’t make me leave your drowsy ass on the curb.” Darcy starts the car, pulling into the mostly-empty street.

“Empty threat,” Phil murmurs, dropping his head back tiredly. 

They collect their keys from the desk, and head up to their room, Darcy carrying Phil’s small travel bag. “Man, this place is seriously swag.”

“Swag? Really? Darcy, you are a grown, married woman.” Phil raises an eyebrow down at her, smiling slightly.

“Yes, swag. Don’t be such an old grouch.” She elbows him lightly in the ribs, watching the floor indicator above the doors. It slows to a stop, and the gold shiny doors open onto an opulent corridor. 

Their room is slightly less ostentatious, but the king bed and wide marble bath more than make up for it. Darcy tucks her purse and Phil’s bed neatly in the small closet, then pulls Phil over to the bed, where she begins to carefully pull his impeccably-pressed suit off. She carefully drapes each layer over the room’s armchair, and then pulls off her own dress. They curl up in the huge, impossibly comfortable bed together, and Phil promptly drifts off to sleep. Darcy watches over him, supremely contented, until she succumbs to sleep herself.

Darcy wakes around noon, to Phil lavishing kisses across her bare torso. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Feel better?” Darcy runs her hands over Phil’s broad shoulders, gasping slightly as he kisses up across her collarbone. 

“Leaps and bounds.”

“Good.” Darcy takes a deep breath, grasping Phil’s face in her small hands. “I have a surprise for you.”

Phil smiles lazily at her, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Oh?” 

Darcy steels herself, trembling slightly. “I’m pregnant.”

Phil freezes, eyes wide. He looks at Darcy in wonder, in shock. “What?” He says, voice soft.

Panic rising quietly within her, Darcy swallows nervously. “Um, I mean, I’m not very far along, only about six weeks, and I only found out a few days ago, an-”

Phil silences her with a kiss, rolling over on top of her. “Darce, that’s, that’s incredible.” 

“Really?” Darcy looks up into Phil’s eyes, feeling small.

“Of course!” Phil kisses her again, and again. “Amazing,” kiss, “wonderous,” kiss, “marvellous,” kiss, “and spectacular.”

Darcy smiles, eyes watery. “Good. I, well, I was worried. We never, you know, talked about it, and with, with S. H. I. E. L. D. and stuff, I--”

“I couldn’t be more pleased, Darce.” Phil kisses her again, stealing away Darcy’s breath as well as her worry. 

 

* * *

 

     Darcy is curled up around Phil, listening to his story about one of Clint’s recent escapades in the SHIELD base’s vents. His voice is warm with affection, but also strained, the stress of some current crisis obviously worrying him. Darcy trails a finger up and down Phil’s chest, watching it rise and fall with his steady breath. 

When the story’s ended, and a few minutes have passed in comfortable silence, Darcy looks up at her husband. “What are we going to do?”

Phil frowns. “You have to be more specific than that, Darce.”

“About the baby.” Darcy buries her face in Phil’s chest, not wanting to watch him process her question.

Phil is quiet for a few moments. “What do you want to do,” he asks, his voice impossibly gentle.

“I don’t want you to give up SHIELD. I don’t want you to get bogged down by me. I don’t want--”

Phil grabs her face in his hands. “But what do you want?”

Darcy blinks, chewing on her bottom lip. “I want you, and I want this baby, and I want to live happily ever after.” She tries to duck her head, embarrassed, but Phil won’t let her.

“Then that’s what will happen. I promise.” He kisses her, one hand tangling itself in her dark hair.

Darcy pulls back. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she reprimands, fierce.

Phil smiles. “I don’t.” 

 


	8. Errands, or Darcy Meets the Bane of Phil’s Existance

     They’re in the elevator of Stark Tower, Phil calmly ignoring the disembodied voice politely attempting to turn him away. Darcy grabs Phil’s hand and squeezes, smiling up at him. He lifts their entwined hands up and kisses Darcy gently on the knuckles. He’s been on the phone since they walked in the building, being studiously ignored by Tony Stark. The elevator stops, and dings open, and Phil hangs up. 

Stark is pointing at them, in a mockery of outrage. “Security breach!”

A tall redheaded woman, Virginia Potts, if Darcy remembers correctly, stands and walks over. “Phil! Come in.”

Stark frowns. “Phil? His first name is Agent.”

Darcy snorts, and Stark seems to notice her for the first time. 

“Agent, I didn’t know you had a kid!” Stark seems positively delighted, grabbing onto Darcy and pulling her into the room. Phil follows, making a small noise of exasperation. 

“I don’t.”

“Sister?” Tony is circling Darcy, who is feeling more and more like she wants to pull Mr. Sparky out. 

“No.” Phil is handing a tablet to Potts, who seems to have some idea of who Darcy actually is.

Tony is staring intently at Darcy, leaning way too far into her personal space, and Darcy snaps. “I’m his wife, asshole.” She shoves him a little bit, and he takes a few steps back.

His eyebrows hit his hairline. “Well hot damn, Agent. Didn’t take you for a cradlerobber.”

Darcy reaches into her purse, but before she can grab onto her tazer, Phil lays a hand on her lower back. “Stark, I’d appreciate if you didn’t antagonize Darcy. She’s a little trigger happy.”

Darcy grins at Stark. “I tazed an alien god once.”

Tony frowns, but shrugs, turning his laser-focused gaze onto Phil. “So what brings you to my humble abode, Coulson?”

Pepper wiggles the file at Tony. “This, I presume.”

Tony takes the file, dropping it onto his holodesk and flicking through it, looking both skeptical and mildly impressed. “I was under the impression that the Avengers Initiative had been scrapped. And that I didn’t qualify, anyways.” He looks at Darcy, eyes gleaming with something akin to pride. “I’m volatile, self-obsessed, and don’t play well with others.”

“I’m really not surprised.”

“Well, Stark, this isn’t about personality profiles anymore. I’d like you to look it over, as soon as possible.”

Pepper frowns, and sighs. “I’m going to take the jet to D. C. tonight.”

Tony pouts. “Tomorrow.”

“You’ve got homework. You’ve got a lot of homework.” Pepper puts down her glass of champagne. 

Tony pulls her in close, and they mutter together quietly for a few moments. Darcy looks up at Phil. “I love you,” she whispers. 

Phil looks down at her, smiling. “I love you too.”

Pepper separates from Tony, who turns back to his display. “You going past LaGuardia by any chance?”

“Unfortunately not. Darcy and I are heading out for dinner.” Phil leads Darcy back to the elevator, trailed by Potts.

“So how long have you two been married? I’ll admit, I’m quite surprised. Last time I saw you, Phil, you were still attatched to that cellist.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow at that, but remains quiet.

“Two months, just about.”

“Oh, congratulations. How did you two meet?”

“He stole my iPod.” Darcy grins, squeezing Phil’s hand once again.

“Confiscated. I confiscated your iPod. And I gave it back.”

Darcy sighs dramatically. “Yeah, but it really hasn’t been the same since.”

Potts smiles. “Well, I’m happy for you two. It’s nice to see Phil relax a bit.”

The elevator slows to a stop, and the doors open onto the lobby. “There is a car waiting for you out front, Ms. Potts, to take you to the airport,” says the disembodied voice, startling Darcy.

“Thank you, J. A. R. V. I. S.” Potts turns to them as they exit the elevator, smiling. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Darcy. We should have coffee sometime. Phil, it was a pleasure as always.” She turns and strides out across the lobby, taking a small suitcase from a uniformed attendant as she crosses by the reception desk.

“Well, that wasn’t nearly as bad as I had expected.”

Darcy laughs, holding the front door open for Phil. “Oh man, I though I was gonna sock him.”

Phil hails a cab almost instantly. “Stark tends to inspire that reaction in many people. I once threatened to taze him, and then leave him drooling on the floor while I watched Supernanny.” “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”


	9. Intermission, or What Happened During the Attack

     “I gotta say, it’s an honor to meet you officially.” Phil smiles over at the Captain. “I sort of met you, when you were sleeping, and I think you’ve met my wife. Breifly. Although I’ll say that was probably less a meeting than it was a sexual harrasment lawsuit.”

Steve frowns, closing his tablet and walking over to stand next to Phil. “Your wife?”

Phil grins. “Darcy. Brunette, energetic, young.” He pauses, then adds, “great tits?”

“Ah.” Steve nods, blushing slightly. “The girl at the café. She was sweet. Very pretty, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“No, not at all. She’s gorgeous. Don’t quite know what she sees in me, but women are like that, more often than not.” Phil sighs. “I’m glad she didn’t terrify you, though. I was a little worried she would try to cop a feel. Darce is very, well, enthusiastic.”

 

* * *

 

“Just let me know, I’ll fly you guys out to my place in Aruba, you’ll love it.”

 

* * *

 

“As soon as Loki took the doctor, we moved Jane Foster. We’ve got an excellent observatory in Tromsø. She was asked to consult there very suddenly yesterday. Handsome fee, private plane, very remote. She’ll be safe.” Phil pauses, pursing his lips.  “Darcy’s in Brooklyn, but she’s most likely not a target, so she’s safe where she is.”

Thor’s face brightens. “I am glad to hear of it, both of Lady Jane and of Darcy. Are they both well?”

“Very.” Phil smiles. “Darcy and I are married now. We’re expecting a baby.”

Thor claps Phil on the shoulder, grinning. “What joyous news! You are a good match for her, I am certain. If I had known, I would have brought a gift for the both of you, and for the child, as is my duty as her shield-brother!” 

* * *

“He was married.” Steve’s voice is strained, unable to wipe the smiling face of the young woman from the café from his mind. 

“I know. Darcy. They hadn’t gone on a honeymoon yet.” Stark pauses, swallows. “I thought she was his daughter, when I saw her.”

 

* * *

 

“Darcy’s pregnant.”

Clint leans his forehead against the bathroom mirror. “Are we going to tell her? About Phil,” he chokes momentarily, “about what happened?”

“Not yet. Not until Loki has paid.” Natasha clenches her fists, trying not to think of Phil’s face when he told her the news.


	10. Aftermath, or What Happened After the Attack

     Darcy gets the call around dawn, waking her from a restless sleep. The number is blocked, but she answers nonetheless, anxious for news. “Hello?”

“Hi. Is this Darcy Coulson?”

Darcy frowns, not recognizing the voice. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Agent Maria Hill, of S. H. I. E. L. D.”

Darcy stands quickly from the couch, striding quickly over to the window for a modicum of privacy, her heart pounding. “Is Phil okay? Is he safe? I’ve been completely freaking out, I haven’t heard from him in days, and--”

“Mrs. Coulson, I,” Hill pauses, swallowing audibly. “I’m so sorry.”

Darcy feels everything stop. _I’m so sorry._ She doesn’t hear anything Agent Hill says next, but she doesn’t need to. Her knees threaten to buckle, so she leans heavily against the window frame.

“Mrs. Coulson? Are you there.”

“I’m here. Call me Darcy, please.” Darcy hears herself respond, hears her voice remain steady, hears herself agree to collect Phil’s belongings, ‘at her earliest convienience’. She hears herself thank Hill, and then she hangs up. Darcy stares at her phone for several minutes, before hurling it across the room with all her might, watching it shatter against the far wall, leaving a dent just above the light switch. 

Simon jolts awake at this, but Darcy ignores him, storming into her room and slamming the door. She pulls on fresh clothes, the blue dress Phil loves and the shoes she wore to their wedding, and seizes her purse, making sure she has her I.D. and then delving into the horde of cash Simon has always kept in the back of his sock drawer. She shoves open the window, ignoring Simon’s insistent knocking, and begins stomping down the fire escape as he throws the door open.

He stops following her once she’s reached the bottom and has half-sprinted out of the alley. She makes it to the park before she crumbles, collapsing onto the bench by the duck pond and burying her face in her hands. She counts her breaths, like Phil taught her, trying not to hyperventilate. She has to stay calm. She can’t let S. H. I. E. L. D. think she’s a wreck. It’d be a disgrace, if Phil’s wife was a sobbing mess, if she didn’t live up to his reputation. She has to stay calm. 

She hails a cab, distantly pleased to see that New York cabbies are still as unrelenting as always, and has it take her as close as possible to the rendez-vous point Hill gave her. She walks the few blocks that the cab can’t, picking her way though stray chunks of concrete and the occational bloody limb. 

Darcy stands across the street from the makeshift field office, in the plaza before Stark Tower, gathering her resolve. An agent spots her, and rushes over. 

“Civilians aren’t authorized to be in this area. We’ve asked everyone to clear a six-block radius back.” He’s young, dark-haired, cute. He’s got a scratch on the side of his face, already clotted over.

“I’m here to see Agent Hill.”

The agent frowns. “Name?”

“Darcy Coulson.”

Darcy takes a vague satisfaction in the slight panic that flits over the man’s face. 

“Sorry, Mrs. Coulson, I’ll take you right through.” The agent leads Darcy around the tent, and into Stark Tower proper. The lobby looks much as it did when Darcy last saw it, only covered in a thin layer of concrete dust and glass shards. A few men in dark green are sweeping a path from the elevators with heavy industrial brooms. Hill has set up at the reception desk, her cheek bandaged, arguing with Sitwell.

“Agent Hill, Mrs. Coulson to see you.” The agent waits for a nod from Sitwell, then leaves quickly.

Hill stands up, putting out a hand to shake. Darcy eyes it, but does not shake. Hill retracts her hand, no hint of embarrassment. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon, Darcy.”

“I didn’t have anything more important to do.”

Hill flushes slightly, beckoning for Sitwell to take her post. She comes around the desk, laying her hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “Follow me, please. I haven’t had a chance to bring his things down, you’ll have to forgive me. They’re up at the balcony level, where we’ve been transferring supplies from.”

“That’s fine.” They pass the janitors, stepping into the shiny-clean elevator. 

“Top floor, I presume, Agent Hill?” The disembodied voice floats down from the ceiling, as calm as before.“Yes please, JARVIS.”

The elevator begins to move. “And might I add, lovely to see you again, Darcy, though I do wish it were under different circumstances. I am sorry for your loss. Agent Coulson was truly one of a kind.”

Hill looks surprised, but doesn’t comment.

“Thank you, JARVIS.” Darcy stares ahead at the floor indicator, silently counting her breaths, clinging to her calm façade.

The elevator slides smoothly to a stop, and the doors open onto Stark’s office, now populated by SHIELD agents, buzzing to and fro with various crates and bags. 

“This way.” Hill leads Darcy over to a quieter corner of the room, behind Stark’s bar, and pulls a smallish case from under the sink. “This is all he kept on base, as well as all he had on him.”

Darcy takes it, then steels herself. “When is the funeral?”

Hill frowns. “I’m sorry, I thought I mentioned. Public funerals are against SHIELD policy.”

Darcy bites the inside of her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. She nods, tightly, and takes a deep breath. “Thank you for your time, Agent Hill.”

“Not at all. And again, I’m so, so sorry. Phil was a good man, and an exceptional agent.”

Darcy nods again, and turns on her heel, reaching the elevator before Hill thinks to follow her. JARVIS is silent on the way down, though Darcy thinks she can feel him watching. 

 

* * *

 

     The case is fairly full, everything in seperate plastic baggies. One of Phil’s suits is there, which Darcy quickly sets aside, as well as his Captain America trading cards. They’re stained with blood, visciously red. She tucks them under the suit bag. There’s a few framed photos, one of her alone, one of her and Phil, and one of the wedding party. Phil’s workout clothes, which still smell of him, his wedding ring, and Darcy’s class ring. She strings the last two on the same chain as his dog tags. A scrap of paper, with a list of names. Adelaide Victoria, Ambrose Garnett, a few others, including Darcy’s grandfather’s and Phil’s dead sister’s. 

Baby names. 

There’s a bag of espresso beans, the weird ones Phil gets imported from Guadelajara, a flask of tequila, and a half-eaten pack of powdered mini donuts. And at the bottom of the case, a USB drive, labeled ‘Darcy’. 

She puts everything back in the case, save Phil’s SHIELD tee, which she puts on, and the donuts, which she eats. She curls up in bed with her laptop, rereading Phil’s emails to her.

Darcy wakes up, screaming and sobbing, around four, and Simon bursts in, eyes wild. He untangles Darcy from the blankets and pulls her to his chest, stroking her tangled hair. She stops shaking, but she cries, for the first time since Hill called her. Darcy cries against her brother’s chest for what feels like an eternity, until the sun begins to rise, casting weak light on the pair of them. 

She falls back to sleep, slowly, Simon still holding her close. They sleep like they did when they were children, tangled limbs and sharp elbows. 

The next few days are a haze for Darcy, of sleeping and crying and being forced to eat Simon’s terrible cooking. Clary comes over, at one point, and talks angrily at Darcy about taking better care of herself, for Chrissake. 

Darcy starts to improve after that. She showers, and bakes two hundred blueberry muffins. She eats three, and then makes Simon take the rest down to the local relief camp. She watches two seasons of Grey’s Anatomy, crying harder than she ever has before as Katherine Heigl lies, still in her prom dress, with her dead fiancée on his hospital bed. Isabelle throws the dvd out of the window.

No-one asks Darcy to explain herself, they see the rings around her neck, and Clary intercepts the official condolence letter from SHIELD. 

* * *

 

It’s three weeks past the attack when there’s a knock at the door. They’re all sitting at the island, Isabelle and Simon, Jace and Clary, Jordan and Maia, Alec and Magnus, eating stack after stack of Darcy’s pancakes. 

They all look up, Simon frowning and counting the people in the room, and Darcy opens the door, surprised to see Clint and Natasha.

Clint gabs Darcy and hugs her tightly, but only briefly, pulling away to frown at her diminished figure. Darcy’s lost weight, enough that she’s started wearing Isabelle’s clothes, but her belly is very slightly showing signs of the baby. 

“Let’s go,” Natasha says, succinct as Darcy remembers from their brief encounter at the wedding. “We have a surprise for you.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow, skeptical, but grabs her purse and one of Isabelle’s old leather jackets from the coatrack. “Alright.”

She shuts the door behind them without turning back to the others. 

Clint drives them to Central Park, which has been cordoned off by the NYPD and the National Guard. They walk through the quiet greenery for a while, Clint and Natasha communicating only though glances, Darcy remaining as uncharacteristicly silent as she’s been since the attack. They happen upon a second blockade, manned this time by SHIELD, and then Darcy sees Thor, and Hill, and Stark. 

Natasha points at a tall, dark man in manacles and a cruel-lookingmetal gag. “He killed Phil.”

Darcy nods, taking a deep breath. 

“He’s been beat up pretty bad lately. I shot him out of the sky, then Hulk tossed him around like a rag doll. And he’s been in SHIELD custody for a few weeks, under Hill and Fury.”

Darcy’s eyes narrow. “Can I get closer?”

“Of course.” Natasha puts her hand on Darcy’s lower back, and guides her across the square to where the man is being watched over by Thor.

“Darcy!” Thor catches sight of her, his voice booming across the courtyard. Everyone turns and stares, including Stark and the Captain, who both flinch guiltily at the sight of Darcy.

“Sheild-sister, it is too good to see you well.” Thor crosses to her, dragging Loki behind him on a chain-leash. He pulls Darcy into a crushing hug, his scruffy beard tickling against Dary’s neck. “Though not as well as I would hope. You have become much smaller. You are with child, are you not?”

Darcy, squirming out of Thor’s suffocating grip, shrugs. “I’ve been doing my best, big guy.”

Thor smiles sadly. “I am sure. As I told the Son of Coul, had I known you were with child, I would have brought you a birth-gift worthy of any true sister of mine.”

Darcy smiles, genuinely. “You’re the best, Thor.”

Thor’s smile droops. “I am glad that you see me so, but were I truly the best, I would not have allowed my brother Loki to trespass as he did. I fear I shall never forgive myself for what he was allowed to do to this world and to you.”

“Your brother.” Darcy counts her breaths for a moment, and steps closer to Loki. She looks up at him, into his eyes, expecting to see unconscionable evil. Darcy grips tightly one of the knives strapped into her jacket sleeve, one of the knives that Clary and Isabelle have been teaching her to use. 

In his eyes she sees only defeat. She lets go of the knife, and returns to Clint and Natasha. “Pathetic,” she spits, ignoring  the pained look on Thor’s face.

As Thor leads Loki back to the center of the square, Natasha leans over, whispering to Darcy and Clint, “better than a memorial service?”


End file.
